


Tragic by association

by Robin_Hood



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon Typical Triggers, High School AU, M/M, Nothing is explicit, everything is worse, except the violence, part one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 10:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15772038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Hood/pseuds/Robin_Hood
Summary: Andrew had barely allowed himself to trust the Spear household that had taken him and Aaron in before it was shattered by the arrival of a nightmare in the form of Cass’s son, Drake.Chris had just watched Mary die and wanted nothing more than to settle down for a number of months until he recovered. He finds himself growing attached to the life that Christopher Wilson leads, which leads to him overstaying his welcome.One can’t be sure if the two of them meeting was a good thing or not.





	Tragic by association

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of the high school AU I created for the AFTG Big Bang. The second part should be completed sometime later today. Hopefully.
> 
> The chapter title and song lyrics in the chapter are from the song Taking Care of Things by Cavetown. He makes some great bops.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew finds a short-lived haven in Cass after reconnecting with Aaron, and Chris finds himself alone in California after Mary's death in need of a pause from life. He enrolls in the local high school and quickly finds himself growing attached to the life that Christopher Wilson leads. 
> 
> Not all good things can last.

**\---**

_Sat in a cold room, The corners feel friendly_

_  
I think they'll take care of me_

**\---**

Consistency was never something that was present in Andrew’s life before Cass. He only knew short stays in homes that obviously didn’t want him, cold words and shoulders, and sleepless nights. One thing that stayed consistent was the underlying message that this told him he wasn’t ever going to find a family that truly welcomed him, and that trusting people was a bad idea.

But Cass was something different.

He didn’t notice it at first because he had forgotten what being cared for was supposed to look like. He had grown too used to being all but forgotten to know what sincerity looked like. Cass didn’t press him to talk to her, and Richard did the same thing. She was fine with talking without a response. She talked in a way that he found soothing. She spoke about all the children that had passed through her door, the recipes she loved most, and always about how proud she was of her biological son, Drake. He was currently deployed, so Cass worried, but she was always so positive. Andrew’s first thought when he heard that she had a son was that if this worked, he would have an older brother. He killed the thought quickly though because homes didn’t last for him.

If there was anything that he welcomed, he found he didn’t have to worry about being left alone at night. It didn’t mean he stopped avoiding sleep though. Nightmares came in different shapes and mediums, after all.

Aaron had first been contacted by Aaron a month into his stay at Cass’s and didn’t initially want to reach out to someone, trust someone, that he would likely never see or be able to depend on to stay. Cass had found the letter while cleaning his room though and had offered to set up a time for the two of them to meet. Andrew didn’t turn her down because of how sincere she was, and because he didn’t want to see her disappointed in him turning down yet another attempt at friendly relationships.

So Cass had arranged for Aaron and Tilda to come over to her house for an afternoon so that Aaron and Andrew could meet. They even made it so that the day fell on the twin’s 13th birthday. Cass had gently patted Andrew’s head when the doorbell rang, telling him that this was going to be good for both him and Aaron. Andrew wasn’t worried about meeting Aaron. He was more worried about meeting the woman who had likely flipped a coin to determine which twin she took back.

When Cass opened the door, Andrew was met with a woman that smelled like smoke with dirty blond hair and an irritated countenance, accompanied by his own reflection, give a few faint red smudges on Aaron’s arms.

Andrew expected their first meeting to be their last based on how Tilda acted around Cass and Andrew, but their next meeting wasn’t decided based on what Tilda wanted. Aaron called Andrew in the middle of the night after Cass went on step too far before locking Aaron in his room.

“A-Andrew...” Andrew’s blood had grown hot as he heard how scared Aaron sounded, and immediately pushed himself out of his bed, out of his room, and down the hall to Cass and Richard’s room, “I’m scared, Mom-”

“Don’t call that woman mom,” Andrew had hissed, and Aaron fell silent on the other line while Andrew knocked on Cass’s room door before slipping inside and gently, gently touching her shoulder.

“Andrew?” Cass had sat immediately, always ready to help, always, and turned on the bedside lamp, “What’s wrong, who’s on the phone?”

The night had ended up being the first sleepless one in a long time for Andrew, but for once, the morning brought him hesitant hope instead of a crushing blankness. Tilda had taken things too far, and Aaron had gotten a collection of dark bruises scattered across his body before the police arrived and took Tilda away. Cass had pulled Aaron to her chest as he cried, whispering the same things she would whisper to Andrew whenever he came out of a nightmare.

She had offered to adopt the both of them.

It had come completely out of the blue, and for a moment, Andrew panicked because consistency was a concept he was both terrified and intrigued by. But when Cass actually sat the two of them down, his own desire for consistency and the bright look in Aaron’s eyes convinced him to say yes to the unknown concept of family.

Six months later, Andrew found himself fiddling with the buttons on a shirt that was identical to Aaron’s. Cass had thought it would be fun for Drake to figure out which twin was which, and Andrew had complied because of how enthusiastic she was about it. The one issue he had with the shirt was that it was short sleeved, but the few scars on his skin that stood out could be covered by a thin layer of concealer.

Aaron poked his head into the bathroom and grinned at Andrew.

“Cass says that Drake will be here in ten minutes,” he stated excitedly as Andrew slipped the concealer into his pocket, “She wants us to come downstairs and meet the rest of the guests before he gets here.”

Andrew followed Aaron down the hallway and then down the stairs, not really looking forward to meeting the large number of people that Cass had invited, but somewhat happy to see that Aaron was so happy and excited to finally meet the son that Cass had been speaking so highly of for the past months. Aaron ended up doing most of the talking with Andrew saying the necessary things, and smiling at the right times. He caught Cass’s eyes from time to time to reassure himself with her warm persona. It made it worth it.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door and Cass ran to answer it, letting out a cry of happiness as she hugged the new arrival. Drake Spear was tall and muscular with a buzz cut with eyes that matched Cass’s. Andrew’s first perception of him was a decent, kind son based on how he hugged Cass, and greeted his father, his smile genuine and his eyes sparkling. A supportive older brother.

Andrew had spent enough time in certain types of homes to identify danger when he saw it. The look in Drake’s eyes shifted to something predatory and dark as they settled on Aaron and Andrew.

_“He’s always been so good with the kids we’ve taken in.”_

Andrew resisted the urge to grab Aaron’s shoulder and hold him back as he ran up to Drake and introduced himself. He swallowed down his disappointment and forced his feet to join Aaron as Cass introduced the two of them.

“And this is Andrew! You can tell the difference if you look closely. Andrew has a freckle underneath his left eye,” Cass gently settled her hand on Andrew’s shoulder, and Andrew chose to focus on her hand instead of the way Drake’s eyes flicked across his body in a way that went completely over Cass’s head.

“Hey, little dude. It’s nice to finally meet the two of you,” he said smoothly, ruffling Aaron’s hair affectionately. Andrew nodded and ignored the urge to take Aaron’s hand and run far away from this place. But Cass was here. This was home.

Drake pulled Andrew in for a hug next, and Andrew fought to keep his facial expressions in check. The hug lasted a little too long, but Andrew seemed to be the only one who noticed. Aaron was blissfully unaware and seemed more focus on finding out more about Drake.

He slipped back to the kitchen to calm down; trying to slow his heartbeat and erase any signs of panic that had surfaced on his face. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be safe here. Cass was supposed to be his answer. Drake was supposed to be someone to look up to, not someone to fear. He and Aaron were supposed to be safe now.

Aaron.

Andrew lifted his head so that he could see over the breakfast bar at the two of them. They had moved to the couch where Aaron was talking animatedly about the turtle the two of them had found yesterday. The casual way that Drake let his arm settle on Aaron’s shoulder made Andrew feel sick.

Andrew squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands. Maybe he knew as soon as Drake appeared that this would have to happen. That for one thing to remain intact, something else had to be broken. That is if it wasn’t already broken.

He opened his eyes again, and returned to the living room, ignoring how his skin crawled when Drake looked up at him and smiled.

"Hey _buddy_ ," Andrew said far too brightly, and Aaron gave him a look, "Cass has told me so much about you, mind if we talk over here for a bit? Great. Aaron won't mind." Andrew gestured to the backyard as Drake stood.

“Sure,” he replied, “I’ll be back,” he said to Aaron, smiling at him before following Andrew.

Memories were scratching at the surface of Andrew’s consciousness as Drake followed him outside, but he shoved them down so he could focus on the task at hand. He stopped next to the swing affixed to the large oak in the backyard, turning towards Drake and crossing his arms.

"I know what you're planning," he said coolly, and Drake raised his eyebrows as a smirk found its way onto his face. Along with interest. Andrew was growing increasingly more nervous despite his attempts to shut himself down.

"What I'm planning?" He laughed, moving towards Andrew and Andrew realized just how much taller Drake was than himself.

 "Planning to what, exactly, hm? What part of my plan do you know," he was right in front of Andrew now, leaning over and whispering in his ear while keeping an eye on the back door. "The plan involving brother dearest and I spending time together? Or the plan that involves me making him cry?"

Andrew moved to punch Drake, but Drake caught it easily and laughed. Fury was tearing its way through Andrew's blood and he'd be damned before he let Drake touch something Andrew had finally welcomed into his life.

"Don't you dare fucking touch him," He hissed, ignoring how the presence of Drake's hand on his arm made his skin burn.

Drake smirked.

"Who's going to stop me, huh?" He asked snidely.

"Me," Andrew said, more calmly than he's expected.

"Such a good big brother," Drake laughed and ruffled Andrew's hair. Andrew hadn't noticed, but Cass had poked her head out of the back door and waved at the two of them, smiling.

"I'll see you tonight then, little brother," Drake said before going inside. Andrew felt sick.

After he left, Andrew couldn’t bring himself to look at Cass without feeling a stab of sadness, so he told her he didn’t feel well and retired to his room. He settled on his bed. Cass had insisted on getting them bunk beds so that they could be close to each other. At the time, Andrew had gone along with the idea wholeheartedly. Now the thought made him sick. A sob caught itself in his throat, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to smother the sound before it escaped. His hands were shaking, as was his foundation. He knew he had to pull himself back together in order to deal with Drake without completely falling apart, but he allowed himself a brief break before returning to what he was before Cass. He allowed himself to feel for an hour before Aaron climbed the ladder to the bed above Andrew, and Cass came in to kiss them both goodnight.

“How do you like Drake?” she asked quietly, and Andrew could hear the nervous quiver in her voice as she did so. He would feel bad if he didn't feel so betrayed.

“He’s so cool,” Aaron whispered almost reverently, leaning over the railing to look down at Cass, “It’s nice to have an older brother, right Andrew?” Aaron grinned down at Andrew, and Andrew smiled back.

“It is.”

Cass breathed a sigh of relief, and kissed the two of them goodnight, squeezing Andrew’s hand gently before leaving the room. Aaron was still leaning on the railing when she left.

“Drew,” he called softly.

“Yeah,” Andrew replied.

“You’re still my favorite brother.”

Despite the fact that his walls were rapidly coming back up, those words coming out of Aaron’s mouth hit Andrew in the best, yet worst place. Maybe it was because Andrew felt like Aaron’s affection wouldn’t stay around for long. Or maybe it was because those words somehow justified what was about to happen. Maybe those words were what Andrew needed to hear to completely give himself over to keep Aaron, or at least the Aaron who had uttered those words, safe without resisting.

“You too,” he managed and rolled back under the bed so that Aaron couldn’t see the pain flicker across his face.

Andrew listened as Aaron’s breathing evened out, clenching and unclenching his hands as he waited for the inevitable creak of the door. The last thought he had before the door opened was a wish that Cass’s house was somewhere where he didn’t have to sell his freedom so he could feel comfortable with his brother.

And then the door did open, and Andrew was back behind his walls before it closed again.

\---

The one thing Andrew hated about the situation was that as time passed, Aaron became angry at him for “not welcoming” Drake as a part of their family. Andrew couldn’t very well tell Aaron why he always stood off to the side when Drake and Aaron chatted or played cards or something. He couldn't tell him because if he did, the deal would be off and they would both be in danger.

Drake thought that was funny.

Two months passed, and Drake left with a kiss the night before, and a hug that lingered a beat too long the morning after. Andrew couldn’t help but feel some sort of relief as he watched the car pull out of the driveway, but he told himself that Drake was coming back. In a way, not knowing when he would be back was a form of torture in and of itself.

Once Drake was sent off, Aaron scoffed at how Andrew was noticeably more social in the mornings and took it upon himself to address it while they walked to school the morning after Drake’s departure.

"I bet you're glad he's gone. Glad you have Cass to yourself again," Aaron muttered, and Andrew stared at him.

"Are you kidding me? I am not that self-centered." Andrew retorted, kicking a rock.

"You could have fooled me," Aaron shook his head and put earbuds in.

That had hurt so much more than anything Drake had ever done. That night, for one, single moment, Andrew wished he hadn't stepped in. The moment he thought it self-hatred was crashing over him, sending him reaching for that relief of pain. He stayed up that night, and Aaron didn't ask about the redness that was prevalent in his eyes.

\---

Time passed. Less and less of Andrew’s forearms were left unmarked, and it seemed like the more he gave himself away, the quicker that Aaron drifted away from him. It was slowly destroying him, whether or not he cared.

Cass put him on anti-depressants when prompted by a psychologist when Aaron told her about the razor blades he’d found in their shared bathroom. It didn’t change much, other than making Andrew tired more than he already was, and more numb than happy.

It didn’t change his habits.

It really just meant that he had to be more discreet about it.

\---

Things changed the year before the twins started high school.

Drake was being deployed overseas. Up until then, he had been stationed in bases across the United States, but now he was scheduled to leave overseas for two years. The house had been silent when Drake had come home to tell them the news.

Cass’s eyes had immediately filled with tears.

“Oh Drake,” she choked, covering her mouth with her hands as tears began dripping down her face. Drake moved across the room smoothly, pulling Cass into his chest gently and holding her tightly.

“I promise I’ll come back,” he said softly, “it isn’t as dangerous as you would think.” He pulled away and smiled sadly at Cass.

Aaron had gone completely still, but now broke out of the shock and burst forward, holding onto Drake tightly.

“You _have_ to come back,” he whispered fiercely, “You _have_ to.”

Drake knelt down and looked Aaron in the eyes.

“I will, Aaron. I promise.”

Drake’s eyes flickered over to where Andrew was standing stiffly, watching the scene unfold before him.

“Be safe,” he said quietly.

Drake stood and walked over to him, pulling him close.

“ _We still have a deal. You’re still mine. Don’t forget that while I’m gone,_ ” he whispered, and pulled back as he ruffled Andrew’s hair.

“I’ll miss you, AJ.”

Once drake left the room with Cass, Aaron turned to Andrew angrily, his eyes turning red in anticipation of tears.

“You don’t even care,” he hissed, walking angrily towards Andrew. Andrew simply walked backward until his back hit the wall. Aaron caught his hands in Andrew’s collar and pulled their faces together, “You’re so fucking sick. You’re glad he’s getting sent across the sea, aren’t you?” the last bit came out as a harsh whisper, the tears constricting Aaron’s throat, “Glad you get Cass all to yourself?”

Andrew swallowed hard and focused on a photograph of Cass and the two of them that was on the mantle.

_Before and after_

_Spot the difference!_

Aaron looked happier with Drake; Andrew noted the dark circles that had appeared on his own eyes, along with the long sleeves. Simple math, if he thought about it.

Andrew plus Drake is equal to Aaron’s happiness.

Aaron’s contempt for Andrew had grown exponentially between the two pictures.

One more couldn’t fit into the equation that was their family without adjustments.

The law of conservation of matter.

Andrew’s eyes drifted back to Aaron’s, who seemed to have grown angrier at Andrew’s apathy. Andrew couldn’t say he was surprised when there was a flash of pain on his left eye, and then again on his mouth. Then again and again until Cass and Drake came back into the room, Drake pulling Aaron off while Cass reached for Andrew.

“Something is wrong with you,” Aaron muttered coldly from where Drake was holding onto his arms.

Andrew flinched away and held his hand up, wiping the blood from his mouth while eying Drake warily in case he tried something with Aaron. He hadn’t noticed that his sleeve had slipped down his arm a bit, exposing a strip of skin that had only just begun to heal. Cass noticed though.

“Andrew,” she said softly, sadly, reaching again this time for his arm, “You…said you were doing better.”

Andrew could feel his face beginning to twitch, the truth scratching at the back of his throat, but a quick glance up at Drake reminded him of his place.

“I lied,” he spat, “I…it’s…”

Dark, cold eyes and the slightest shake of the head.

“School. And I’ve been remembering things from other homes,” he managed, pulling his arms into his stomach. “That’s it.”

Cass pressed her hands against her temples.

“What am I going to do,” she said weakly, and Andrew could hear tears in her voice.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he whispered, and forced himself to grab hold of Cass’s hand, “you’ve already done…so much for me. And for Aaron. I didn’t think…did not want to…”

Cass pulled Andrew close to her, her arms tightly around his shoulders. Andrew could immediately see the anger that flashed in Aaron’s eyes as Cass embraced him, his hands shaking slightly as they settled on Cass’s back.

“Andrew,” Cass murmured, her hands squeezing his shoulders gently, “Andrew I’m here for you. Me, Richard, and especially Drake. We’re your home now. I know…I know a lot of your homes hurt you, and I hate that I can’t change that. But you can tell me, you can trust me.”

 _You can trust me_. 

At that moment, Andrew was the closest to telling her about Drake than he had been throughout all the years. It would be fine. They were in the hospital right now, so it wasn’t like Drake could do anything to Aaron. Logically, it was the best time to do it. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, to finally say the thing that had been crushing him slowly over the past years, but nothing came out. A pained sound in his throat slipped out instead.

“Andrew?” Cass had pulled back and was looking him right in the eyes now, expecting him to say something.

“Y-yeah. I’m sorry. It’s just…hard to talk to people. About the other homes,” Andrew allowed those words to get out before resolutely clamming up again, “I’ll tell you if it gets bad next time.”

Drake flashed a quick small smile at Andrew before kneeling down in front of Aaron.

“I will be back, buddy. I promise.”

His eyes flicked over to Andrew, and Andrew told himself to never trust anyone’s promises ever again.

He closed his eyes tightly and willed himself to fall asleep. He could feel Cass’s hands gently brushing his hair from his forehead, and the gentle touch sent tremors down his body. Cass was kind. And good. He just wished that her house could have been the answer for him

He slipped back into sleep.

**\---**

_Where do the boys go when it gets cold out_

_  
Do they have a place to sleep?_

_Where did their mums go? Did they get taken_

_  
Or had they had enough of taking care of things?_

**_\---_ **

He didn’t realize that his lungs had given out until he was wheezing on the side of a building, unable to get any air into his lungs. He crouched down, forcing his mouth shut in order to inhale through his nose. The scent of smoke was still clinging to his being, despite having been running for the past…who knows how long.

The dark flecks in his vision slowly faded, and his heartbeat gradually slowed down as he turned his thoughts from what he was running from to his surroundings. 

He was still in California if accents were anything to go by. It had been irritating to pick up, but Mary…

_You have to keep running, Abram._

He needed a new name.

He ignored his shaking hands as he sifted through his bag for their, his, papers. ID cards would have to go; there was enough money left and Mary…Mary…

“ _Damn_ ,” he hissed, dropping the papers back onto the ground. He braced himself for a hit that never came, and waited for Mary’s voice to echo around the empty ally, but it remained silent, aside from the inside of his head.

He found that he was crying.

He hadn’t cried since the day before Mary took him and started running. It wasn’t allowed.

There was too much going on in his head, the car, flames, flesh sticking to leather seats, congealed blood, darkness, blades, _father_ , and running, running, running.

Running.

Why did he always have to _run_?

Why couldn’t he just…be?

Of course, he knew the answer to that. _Of course_ he did. Maybe it was the fact that Mary had just died. Maybe it was the fact that he was only fifteen and his brain had decided that now was the time where he couldn’t deal with everything at once anymore and that it was time to settle down for the first time since the night his mother led him out of that bedroom with a hushed whisper.

He knew it was a bad idea because he was immediately anticipating Mary’s voice piercing his skull before her nails pierced his skin, but he was tired. _God_ was he tired. He decided to ignore the voice telling him it was a bad idea.

Christopher Wilson walked out of an ally in a city in California, holding his duffle bag close to his chest as he looked around at his surroundings. He needed to find a Walgreens before he found a place to stay.

He needed to have his papers changed too, but that process was something he had learned from Mary years ago. Cross-dressing on the other hand, however surprising that might have been, wasn’t something that she had chosen to teach him. In hindsight, Chris thought that would have been a useful skill.  

When he checked into a motel later that night, there was a strange feeling of loneliness that found its way under his skin as Mary’s death hit him again. He was so accustomed to her routine of checking and double checking the locks on the doors and windows, and formulating the best path for a quick escape. He went through the routine numbly, feeling like his body moved on its own to complete the task.

He told himself that he needed to bleach his hair and that it was safest to do it now before anyone saw him, but exhaustion drew him to the mattress, and quickly off to sleep.  

\---

When he woke up, his first instinct was to wait for his mother’s all clear. A whisper from the side of the door confirming that no one was outside of the door waiting to take them back to his father. He only let himself grieve a moment longer before pushing himself from the bed and into the bathroom.

Bleaching his hair was the easy part.

The hard part was going through his mother’s clothes in search of some that could make him look like a plausible woman. He had passed the local high school the night before and had already formed a somewhat sturdy plan of action in regards to enrolling.

 _My son, Chris, is looking to enroll in this school. We just moved in from out of town. I’m not in town much. Chris stays at a friend’s house we already knew before we moved here, here’s the address if you ever need to make a house visit_.

Mary would never go through with a plan that could fall apart with one background check, but Chris wasn’t equipped to deal with his emotions and continuing to run, so this was the best that he would get.

He styled his hair in a way that was somewhat feminine, pulled on the blue blouse his mother had kept from the days with his father, and paired it with a pair of black jeans. Makeup was always the hardest thing for Chris to figure out, but he tried to remember the times where Mary had held his chin still as she contoured his face until he was looking at a stranger. He remembered the way his father had demanded she look when in a meeting as he took the powders and creams across his face. Strong cheekbones, a soft jawline, and a slim nose.

He stepped back from the mirror, hoping whatever he had done was somewhat possible. It would have to be.

The motel was empty for the most part, aside from the duffel bag that held their-his-things. He shifted through his papers until he found the ones that they had gotten not two days prior. They had been planning to finalize the change the day Nathan’s men had caught up with them. So close, yet so far…

He stood abruptly, shouldering the duffel bag, and clutching the papers tightly in his hand.

He counted to ten, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the motel into what would be his home for however long it took him to recover, or die.

\---

The interior of the school was the definition of chaos.

He had never been inside a traditional school, so he wasn’t sure if this was normal or not. He found his way to the front desk, and cleared his throat, concentrating on raising his voice to a believable pitch.

“Excuse me? Who would I need to talk to in regards to enrollment?” The lady at the front desk barely gave him a second glance before directing him to the main office which was across from the sea of students in their passing period.

Chris wove his way through them, keeping his duffel and papers close to his chest. He ignored the feeling he had that everyone was looking at him.

The process was easier than Neil expected it to be.

There were no surprise questions, no background check, and no request for fingerprints. There were only tired eyes, monotone generic questions, and requesting ID. It did take about an hour, but Chris wasn’t in a hurry.

“Thank you for choosing to enroll here,” the woman said tiredly. Chris thanked her, took his papers back, and left the office. Most of the other students were long gone at this point, aside from a boy across the hall that seemed to be either Chris’s age or a year older who looked over at Chris as the door shut behind him.

There was something about his eyes and the way they seemed to be scanning Chris as he looked at him that made Chris turn and leave, his skin crawling. All he could think was agent, assassin, bug, and he began to rethink the idea of enrolling in a school.

He broke into a run as soon as he got far enough from the school, not caring who looked at him, just wanting to escape his doubt and fear. He passed a for sale house and stopped abruptly. It was small, and not noticeable amongst the other houses in the neighborhood.

He seemed to be in a less developed area than the one close to the school, which meant less prying eyes. or so he hoped. He glanced around the block before walking around the back, picking the lock, and collapsing on the other side of the door.

As he wiped away the makeup from his face with his hands, he wished for the first time in his life that he could have simply stayed under his father’s cruel hands.

There had been intense suffering in his father’s house, but at least there had been a mildly cruel promise that he would be alive the next morning. He didn’t have to constantly run, or expect everyone to be against him. The boy with the cold brown eyes swam into his memories, and Chris wondered what it would be like to truly trust someone.

The house was devoid of furniture, so Neil brought his duffel bag into a closet, changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and fell asleep with his head on the bag as a pillow.

He dreamt of blood and his mother’s screams.

\---

The alarm he had set the night before jolted him out of his sleep because of the way it broke his routine. His neck ached from the way he had slept on the duffel bag, but he merely stretched a moment before slipping out of the closet.

He didn’t trust the house to be secure while he left, so he went into the backyard in search of a place that was relatively secure. He knew that one, school started in about forty minutes, and two, he needed to leave the papers in the area so that he wouldn’t have to carry them around and risk questions being asked.

There was a cluster of rocks that he ended up stashing the papers in, making a mental note to get something at a store to keep them safe in, in case it rained. He didn’t see the point of changing out of the clothes he had fallen asleep in, so he left the house once the coast seemed somewhat clear.

Walking to the school was strange, even more so because he was walking along with other kids his age. He hadn’t ever really interacted with anyone his age and had grown accustomed to being treated like someone who could handle themselves. Something inside of Chris told him that it would be more than a little different in that aspect.

Once he was inside of the halls, he was a part of the swirling mass of people. People passed him and he kept expecting them to stop and stare, for them to tell him to follow them, for a gun to be pressed to his back, but none of that happened. Someone shoved his shoulder as they passed, but Chris guessed that was just how these hallways worked.

He found his way to the classroom number on the schedule that had been given to him yesterday and settled in a seat at the back. It just seemed like the thing to do in these kinds of situations. He was still baffled at the fact that no one seemed to be out to get him.

“Chris Wilson?” the teacher called his name, and Chris sat up.

“Yes sir?” for some reason, some of the class snickered.

“Just calling role, Chris, at ease soldier,” the teacher shook his head and continued calling what Chris guessed was what the teacher called "role". More snickers.

Chris let his chin settle on his hand, and his eyes caught on the familiar face of the boy who had seen him walking out of the office. The goosebumps were back as their eyes met, and panic ran over his skin as the boy raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Andrew Minyard?”

“Here,” the boy said in a monotone, gave Chris a cold knowing smile, and turned back to face the front of the desk. Anger seeped into Chris’s nerves for some inexplicable reason. Maybe it was at himself because of how the disguise had failed, or maybe it was the snarky smile that Andrew had given him.

Either way, it spelled danger for his hastily constructed identity.

\---

The rest of the day passed in a mind-numbing blur. He took notes when told to, and listened to the teachers when they gave him information about the tests he would need to take if he wanted to remain in junior level classes. He listened half-heartedly, seeing as he didn’t plan to stay until the end of the semester. The way they spoke so hopefully of his chances though gave him an uneasy sense of longing for something he would never have.

The only other memorable thing that happened was that he came across the sports team tryouts. An exy team. His heart tugged longingly at the paper that announced tryouts the following day. He didn’t have any equipment, but he longed to feel a racquet between his hands, and the rush of blocking someone from scoring. He knew that anything that could tie him back to who he had been was dangerous, but his urges were too strong. He needed this. Only a few months and he would let it all go again.

Exy, and that annoyance, Andrew Minyard, who seemed to be in the majority of his classes. Chris didn’t know what his problem was, and he honestly didn’t want to find out.

\---

The next day passed slower than the one before, seeing as he had to wait for the classes to pass before he was able to go to the tryouts for the team. He found himself actually paying attention more so as to not focus on each minute that brought him closer to returning to the gym.

When the final bell did ring, he almost missed the assignment his teacher was handing the exiting students in his rush to get down to the gym. Once there, he crossed the court to where the coach was just sitting down.

“Excuse me, Coach…?” Chris paused, forgetting the name he had seen on the flyer.

“Henderson. Are you here to try out? Where’s your gear?” the man was all business, and Chris could see the skepticism in his eyes, as well as his voice. Chris wasn’t exactly wearing exy attire. He shifted on his feet and clutched the strap of his duffel bag in his hand.

“My mom and I just moved here. She doesn’t have the money to get me new equipment, and…my old equipment is back where we came from,” Chris avoided eye contact, hoping the mostly true story would pass with him, “I was going to ask if you had extra gear I could use to try out with.”

“Sure. There should be some in the community locker over there,” Henderson gestured to the locker room, “I trust you can figure out your size. Name and position?”

Chris hesitated.

He could feel his mother’s nails digging into his skin as he thought _back liner_ , but then he remembered that she was dead, and he was alone.

“Christopher Wilson, back liner,” he replied and went into the locker room. It wasn’t hard to find something that fit, but he changed quickly to avoid anyone populating the locker room before he was fully dressed, lest they see the scars that were painted across his torso.

By the time he left the locker room, a number of people had gathered in the gym, and Chris severely second-guessed himself on how good of an idea this was. It was too late now though, seeing as Henderson was beginning to instruct them to run basic drills across the court.

It took some adjusting to relearn his footing on the court, but the nights he had stolen away from Mary to practice drills alone in a park paid off. The running he always seemed to be doing helped as well. Eventually, Henderson called them in and explained how tryouts would work.

Everyone trying out would try out for the different positions, meaning that they would go through back liner skills and striker skills. A hand shot up, and Henderson called on the student.

“What about the position of the goalie?”

Henderson had a wry smile on his face.

“By all means, give it a shot. It would take one hell of a show to top Minyard, though,” he chuckled.

Irritation washed over Chris. Of _course_ the blond idiot would be on the exy team, and of course, he would be a goalie. He could imagine the smug look on his face already.

The back liner tryouts went well enough. He was able to easily hold his own against the strikers trying out, as well as the people who were already on the team that Henderson used after they had grown accustomed to the setting.

Chris felt alive.

The striker part of the try out was strange, seeing as he had no experience in the area. The fact that Minyard was in the goal though made him willing to try though, even though he knew he had no future as a striker. He didn’t have a future as it was, but he had even less of a future being a striker.

Henderson was having the potential team members run down the field, intercepting the back liners, and then attempting to score on Minyard. He didn’t seem too interested in the proceedings happening in front of him, and that further irritated Chris.

By the time it was his turn, the person who had asked about goalie tryouts was muttering behind Chris.

“He hasn’t blocked a single goal. What the hell is the point of this?”

Chris wondered the same thing as he was passed the ball, dodged past the back liners, and aimed the ball towards the upper left corner of the barrier. There was a smack as the ball shot away from the goal, and Andrew saluted Chris as he leaned on his racquet again. Chris didn’t hesitate before stepping towards Andrew, stopping right in front of him. Andrew merely smiled, looking somewhat disinterested in the scene unfolding in front of him.

“What the hell was that?” Chris hissed, and Andrew raised his eyebrows with false surprise.

“That? Oh, I’m sorry. I think I just did my job,” he shrugged, “what can you do, Ms. Wilson?” his voice dropped to a whisper on the last part, and Chris lunged towards him, but was stopped by one of the back liners before he could do anything. Andrew waved as the girl shoved Chris away, and he seethed off the court, sitting alongside the other people waiting for tryouts to end.

He ignored any attempt that was made to speak to him, panic and anger swirling in his head. He was so stupid, one, to let himself get angry at a random person, and two, to let himself get seen in a shitty disguise. He was more of a mess than he thought.

Henderson called all the people who had tried out into a circle and told them the results would be posted tomorrow. Once he dismissed them, the majority of the people left to the locker rooms. Chris felt queasy as he thought about showering with the rest of the team, and hung back to help clean up. He pointedly ignored Andrew who was lingering by the coach, talking as Henderson took notes.

As Chris set the last racquet in place, the majority of the team had gone, and he could sense someone behind him.

“Stalling are we? Yet another layer,” he mused and passed Chris as he went into the locker rooms.

If things continued like they were, Chris would have to deal with a murder.

\---

Chris made the team as a back liner. He felt elated, determined, and terrified. Their first practice was that afternoon.

He felt like the last piece of his crafted identity had fallen into place, and was finally somewhat settled. Other than the fact that Minyard had caught onto some part of Chris’s secret, things were going well.

Chris was hesitantly hopeful that this was going to work, as long as he avoided interacting with Minyard.

\---

As it turned out, there were mutual feelings of animosity that became all too clear as the practices continued.

He got along with most of the team, aside from Andrew who seemed to have it out for him, and his brother Aaron that seems to dislike Andrew as much as Chris did. The only problem is that Aaron pretty much refused to interact with anyone on the team if it concerns anything other than the game.

The hatred that initially was just mild irritation became more dangerous as they were forced to spend more time together, only further stimulated by the sharp remarks Andrew made from the goal that usually led to both of them being at each other’s throats.

The first game they play together is a mess. Andrew seems distracted, eyes drifting to the bleachers where Chris spots a woman and a tall muscular man with a shaved head in full military attire. Between Andre being distracted and Chris attempting to figure out the connection between the two, the team loses by an embarrassing point gap.

After the game, Henderson stops both of them before they go to the locker room, crossing his arms and glaring down at them.

"You two need to stop whatever animosity is going on. It's childish, and affecting the rest of the team. I don’t care why you hate each other, just set it to the side when you step on the court."

Chris opened his mouth to argue and was surprised when Andrew beat him to respond.

"Yes sir," Andrew replied numbly. Chris looked at him strangely but remained quiet.

"I want both of you to come in early tomorrow and figure your shit out. I am not going to have you two bring down this team. You either figure out how to make this work, or you’re off the team, Wilson."

"what?" Chris sputtered, "Are you kidding me? That's ridiculous."

"And so is your inability to work together. Tomorrow. Six am."

 Another numb yes sir and Chris rolled his eyes, standing up.

"Fine. See you then Minyard."

Andrew barely acknowledged him, apparently too stuck in his own mind to really care about the game at the moment. They both walked towards the exit of the school in silence before Chris inevitably opened his mouth.

"What a jerk." He seethed, kicking a rock. Andrew stayed quiet. "Aren't you going to say something? This is partially your fault you know."

"Yeah. It's my fault, Chris. Sorry," Andrew said flatly.

Chris looked puzzled and was quiet while the two of them put their gear away in silence. Chris slipped away into the showers while Andrew waited. Maybe they hated each other, but they both accepted their boundaries.

He busied himself checking his duffel bag while Andrew showered, and was about to leave when he caught a glimpse of Andrew’s face.

 There was an emptiness in his eyes that was terrifying.

Chris cleared his throat.

“Hey, um…Are you okay?” He asked begrudgingly.

Andrew caught him in his blank stare.

“I wouldn’t mark you down as someone who was that oblivious. I’m peachy. See you tomorrow.”

Andrew left after shutting his locker without another word.

Chris followed him out, watching as he got into the car with Aaron, what Chris assumed was his mother and a man in the passenger seat that turned to greet Andrew as he got in the car. Chris turned away as the man turned to look at him, and ignored the wave that was directed his way.

Something about the way Andrew’s shoulders had slumped on his way out of the locker room whispered _wrong_ , but Chris couldn’t put a finger on it. He decided it was best not to know.

A car honked and Andrew looked to where Drake was waving from his car. His fucking smile on his face.

The first six am practice was taxing and irritating. Andrew seemed to be trying even less than usual as they went through drills, and his stubbornness grates even harder on Chris because of the lack of sleep taking any filter he has away. He ends up shoving Andrew against the wall while Henderson sighs and stands by unless things get out of hand.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Chris snarls, crushing his helmet against Andrew's. Aaron, who was pulled along to the practice, looks irritated. Andrew’s cold eyes bore into Chris.

"I don't know, Chris, you seem to have a few of your own," he replied coldly.

Chris backed away suddenly, maybe because Andrew's legs are shaking ever so slightly and maybe because he's remembering the blank look on Andrew's face and the way his eyes flickered darkly when his ride pulled up.

And maybe he's remembering that yes, he does have his own issues.

"Let's just get back to the game," he muttered, going back to his position. So they do. Andrew seems to get worse as it goes on until he ends up collapsing on the floor. Chris isn't sure what exactly to do Henderson yells at him.

"Go help him you moron."

So he did. As he approached, and he was somewhat alarmed to see just how much pain Andrew looked to be in.

"Andrew do you need help up"

 "Don't...don't touch me, I'm fine," Andrew shoved himself onto his knees before standing up shakily.

Chris didn't notice before, but from the angle, he's at, he could see dark bruises underneath the layers of goalie protection. Andrew caught his gaze and shoved him away, causing himself to almost fall again.

"Fuck off, I just tripped," he muttered, his gaze shuttered.

"Right," Chris said, and only that. He remembered too many lying faces to believe what Andrew was saying. That and the fact that it isn't just his neck that looks bruised. Chris knows concealer when he sees it.

Henderson told them to get dressed, and to come back this afternoon for team practice. They're both silent as they go into the changing room, both of them disappearing into their own respective stalls. The boys gave Chris and Andrew shit about it because boys will be boys, but Chris would rather be called a girl, or a fag than a freak. Chris guessed it was the same for Andrew, or something different. Chris had had a mother who was abused by his father for years. He knew what different kinds of marks looked like. He didn't say anything while he was putting his gear away until he noticed that Andrew was limping. He cleared his throat.

"Are you...okay?" He asked again brokenly because there was so much tension in the room. Aaron had already left, so they're alone.

"Why the _hell_ would you care?" Andrew's voice wobbled ever so slightly, but Chris caught it.

"I care because that's the point of this stupid morning practice,” Chris replied.

"Well, Chris. You can do me a favor and leave that on the damn court. Put on a show. Maybe we'll both get some sleep then," Andrew's eyes flick to Chris's, assumedly at the dark shadows under his eyes. Nightmares, as one knows, tend to keep people up.

They both dealt with their own nightmares.

Chris only shared one class with Andrew on alternating days, that being chemistry. Chris sucked at it. Andrew did just fine. On this particular day, however, Andrew went straight to the back of the classroom and fell asleep before the teacher even started talking. Chris took the opportunity to slide into the seat next to him and actually took notes for once. The teacher noticed that Andrew was asleep.

"Andrew. Since you find the lesson so boring, why don't you explain to me how I got this answer?"

 Andrew looked blearily up at him. Chris nudged his notes towards him, and after shooting Chris a mildly irritated, mostly bewildered look, relayed the information to the teacher. The teacher sighed and kept going.

"I thought I told you to leave it on the court," Andrew muttered when the bell rang. Chris smirked at him.

"Since when do I listen to you?"

Despite Chris hating that it was, Henderson’s plan of forcing them to be in close proximity to each other was working. Because of the extra time they were spending together, they knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses. The next game that they played was a stark contrast to the one they played in the beginning, and the satisfaction of exy was back. Physically, Andrew looked horrible for three weeks but started looking better the week after. Chris also noticed that Aaron was even colder towards Andrew than he usually was during that week. Chris found he paid more attention to Andrew than he used to, and was beginning to wonder why things were so tense between the twins. Why Andrew looked so blank for three weeks, and again, why he changed in the stalls.

\---

Chris approached Andrew after practice on a day where he looked like his normal self. Normal being looking irritated all the time. It was after practice, and the rest of the team hadn't come in yet so Chris took the opportunity to walk over to Andrew's locker.

"What you said, a few weeks ago, about nightmares. What did you mean," Chris began in what he thought was a smooth fashion.

Andrew turned very fast to look at him, and Chris thought fast to backtrack. The panic in Andrew’s eyes was fleeting but extreme. Before he could speak though, Andrew had turned away and was speaking again.

"I meant exactly what I said. Neither of us has perfect lives. We wouldn't be such assholes if we did," Andrew replied, shoving his gear into his locker with vigor. He turned to Chris. "For example, you posing as your mother to register seems like a red flag to me."

Chris flushed, but he stood his ground. Andrew seemed surprised.

"Wearing long sleeves and concealer every day, despite it being hot as hell seems like a red flag to me," Chris shot back.

"Touché," Andrew shifted on his feet before settling against the side of his locker, "I'm not one to give away my secrets for free."

"I wasn't expecting you to," Chris said slightly indignantly, "you said we both had nightmares. We both probably have more than enough stories to tell."

The rest of the team walked in at that point, so they both slipped away to their respective lockers before leaving shortly after one another. Chris hadn't thought that Andrew would actually agree in some way, but he had started to surprise Chris. Whether it was because Chris had stopped being so against Andrew knowing about him or the forced proximity, he wasn’t sure. 

They had a sub in chemistry that day, and no one else sat at their table, so to Chris’s surprise, Andrew brought up what they had been talking about in the locker room.

"So. Truth for truth. It sounds cheesy as fuck but that's what it is. Since you asked me about it, I get to ask the first question." Chris braced himself for the worst but reminded himself that Andrew didn’t have any connections. Probably. "Why did you pose as your mother to enroll in this shit hole?”

Honestly, Chris was expecting a worse question. He could smell smoke, and the last words his mother spoke to him, and how many rules he was breaking by talking and growing comfortable around Andrew. But he was tired, tired of running, tired of not having friends, just…tired. "My mom is dead. I don't know where my dad is, and it’s easier than explaining the situation," Chris replied shakily, tapping his fingers on the table nervously. He knew he didn’t fully answer the question, but he hopes its enough.

Andrew simply nods. Chris takes that as a cue to ask a question of his own.

"Why do you and Aaron not get along?"

"Bitter feelings. Aaron got to stay with my mom while I got to go through the system. Someone ended up adopting us both though, but we still aren't best buddies." Andrew slipped into a sarcastic tone towards the end. Chris could tell that Andrew had avoided some of the truth as well and because Andrew had said nothing about Chris’s avoidance,

"What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color?" Andrew repeated, raising his eyebrows as a smirk found its way onto his face.

Chris shrugged. Andrew looked at him for a moment before responding.

 "Currently? Red." He replied. "Yours?"

"Is that your question?"

"Yes, Chris, it's my question," Andrew said exasperatedly.

"Orange. But, the orange that you see at sunset, you know?" Chris replied somewhat sheepishly as Andrew rolled his eyes.

"Who knew you'd be a sunset watcher," there wasn't any heat or mal intent in those words. Just a statement. Chris smiled, and Andrew looked away.

"You learn something new every day."

"That's a stupid saying."

"I know."

Over the next month, Chris and Andrew continued their game, exchanging increasingly larger truths as the time passed. He traded his life on the run for asking if Cass was Andrew’s biological mother. He traded his favorite food being pasta for Andrew’s favorite candy. All of the facts that they shared should have felt cheesy and useless, but Chris found himself clinging to the truths he gained, and in turn, the friend he hoped he was gaining. Chris learned bits and pieces about Andrew's past, about how he'd been through seven foster homes, how their mother was abusive, but he knows something is missing.

He didn't press though, because the balance between the two of them was already fragile. He knew that if he pushed too hard, Andrew would withdraw. He bade his time and stuck to simple truths.

\---

The championship game arrived without warning, and their team was at the top of their region.

They played like nothing before, and together, they’re able to completely shut down the goal against the opposing team. Their teammates converge upon them when the final whistle blows, pulling them both into a bone-crushing hug. Chris glanced over at Andrew and smiled. Andrew tried to scowl, but it morphed into a reluctant smile. The two of them, along with Aaron, walked together to where the parents were, and Cass ran up to them, hugging them both. Chris stays on the edge of the reunion, unsure as to what he should do.

"You all played so well," she exclaimed, "this must be Chris! Andrew told me he invited you over for dinner. I'm Cass, nice to meet you." Chris shook her hand and followed them to her car, sitting in the backseat with Andrew.

"I have a surprise for you boys," she said as she pulled into the driveway, looking into the backseat and smiling at Andrew and Aaron.

"What is it?" Andrew asked.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if she told you, moron," Aaron muttered.

"Aaron's right, but please don't call your brother a moron," Cass scolded as she unlocked the door and walked towards the front door, digging in her purse for the keys to the house.

The thing with surprises is some people aren't a fan of them. Chris could feel how tense Andrew got as soon as the door opened.

"He got home early!" Cass said excitedly.

Aaron didn’t hesitate and runs forward, giving Drake a tight hug and whispering how glad he's safe. Andrew forces himself forward and Drake ruffles his hair, pulling him in for a hug.

“He meant to come to the game so he could see you both play in such an important game, but this is just as good, I hope!”

"You must be Andrew's friend. Cass told me we were having company," Chris knew a face that intended harm when he saw it. He held out a hand reluctantly.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Chris," Chris managed as he plastered a smile on his face. Drake pulled him into a hug, and Chris sensed Andrew shifting slightly as he did so. Chris did his best to remain calm in the arms of the man who was causing Andrew so much fear. 

"We hug in this house," is what the voice said into his ear.

Cass called them into the dining room for dinner, and Chris sat next to Andrew, tensely. The food was good, and Aaron did most of the talking, recounting the game to Drake and keeping the attention away from Chris and Andrew. Even though Aaron was holding Drake’s attention, Chris could feel Drake’s eyes on him from time to time based on how Andrew tensed beside him every now and again. None of them realized how late it had gotten by the time Chris looked up at the clock.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Spear, but I really should get going,” he said in what he hoped was a pleasant manner.

 Cass looked at the clock, her face registering shock and worry/

"How are you getting home?" She asked, “Do your parents know you’re still out?”

"They do. I...I'm walking," he replied, ignoring the way Drake was looking at him. Cass's eyes widened.

“Do you want to use our phone to call your parents?” Cass pushed,  “I wish you could let them know you were alright.”

 Chris really just wanted to bolt out of the house before things got worse, but Cass kept on prodding, kept on asking…

“They’re out of town. Really, I don’t want to trouble you,” He could feel his heart pounding, and Andrew tapped his wrist, telling him that it was showing. Chris tried to breathe. He still didn’t know just what was going on under the Spear roof, but the vibes of the house were choking him.

"Oh, no, no, you can stay here for the night! I would give you a ride, but I'm exhausted and wouldn't want to put us both in danger."

"It's fine, really," Chris said weakly, his instincts telling him to run far, far away from here.

"I insist. We have an extra room and everything. It isn't a problem."

Chris felt trapped.

"...okay. Thank you," he said quietly. Beside him, Andrew swallowed hard.

\---

While Chris was in the restroom brushing his teeth, Andrew steeled himself and walked into Drake's room, shutting the door behind himself.

"Don't you dare touch him," he said quietly, but coldly, standing his ground when Drake set down the book he was reading and walked towards Andrew.

"Oh AJ, this doesn't work like that, we both know that. You're only worth one body. You're going to have to make a choice,"

 Andrew couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine when Drake cupped his face with his hand.

"Aaron, or your new friend, Chris."

Andrew wanted to scream, he wanted to fight and punch and tear because he knew the answer to this. He knew that he can’t leave Aaron alone, no matter how angry he could be at him, no matter how much Aaron hated his guts. They were family. It was Andrew’s fault for bringing Chris home in the first place.

"You're fucking sick," Andrew said hoarsely.

"Who's it going to be?" Drake whispered, smiling.

Andrew swallowed hard, wishing he had never said yes to Cass. Wishing that he hadn’t asked Chris to come over.

"Aaron," he whispered.

"Who?" Drake had definitely heard him.

"Aaron." His voice cracked.

Drake smiled and patted Andrew's shoulder.

"I hope you get a good night's sleep," he said, before leaving the room to go downstairs.

Andrew turned and punched the frame of Drake's bed until his knuckles bled. He went to his own room and fell onto his bed, gritting his teeth and wishing, wishing, wishing. Wishes couldn't do anything for him though. Wishes couldn't protect Chris.

He was helpless and he hated it.

\---

**(TW FOR IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT)**

Chris wasn’t sure what to expect as he lay on the guest room bed. The house was pretty quiet, aside from the soft sounds of Cass and Drake talking downstairs. All he could think about is how still Andrew went when he saw Drake and the marks that were on Andrew's neck a few months ago. All he could think about was the real reason why Andrew and Aaron don't get along. Somehow though, he falls asleep.

Playing a full game of exy can do that to a person.

He didn’t dream at first.

Then he was dreaming about his mother, her yelling at him, and her hands curled in his hair as she scolded him, reminding him that he shouldn’t have ever stopped running and that getting attached to someone only led to pain, and danger.

Then he wasn’t dreaming anymore.

Instinct caused him to jolt up, or attempt to before someone was hushing him and pushing him back down. Chris panicked and strained hard against the force holding him down, kicking at the monster above him.

"Ohh you little bitch," Drake hissed, covering Chris's mouth as he struck him in the stomach again and again until Chris stopped struggling. He felt Drake’s hands tightening around his wrists with bruising pressure above his head. He swallowed down the overwhelming urge to scream, to call for help, to get this monster taken away, but he knew what it would do to Cass, and in turn, to Andrew. So he bit his tongue, grit his teeth, and stayed quiet.

Chris finally understood as everything panned out. He understood Andrew's mannerisms, and the hate of being touched as hands made their way down his body, the poison of the touch seeping into Chris’ head. He understood the marks on Andrew's neck, and why he chose to wear concealer. He understood the horrible truth that Andrew was forced to endure nightly. Chris slipped away, his last thought one of pained relief at how at least Andrew was going to be able to sleep.

\---

Andrew didn't get a wink of sleep.

\---

_If I don't do anything is it my fault?  
_

_\---_

Their coach still wanted them there for one more six am practice before they concluded their season, so Andrew watched the clock until 5:30, and knocked on the guest room door after waking up Aaron. He ignored the fact that he had heard Drake walking past his door a few minutes prior. He had been in the guest room all night.

_And it’s all your fault._

"I'll be up in a minute," came the weary response from inside. Andrew gritted his teeth and waited outside the door until Chris opened it. He didn’t look anything short of horrible.

"There's concealer in the bathroom. Above the sink," Andrew managed, refusing to look below Chris's face. Chris smiled weakly. "Thanks," he said, disappearing into the restroom. Andrew didn't miss his limp or the dark bruises on his wrists.

_Your fault, your fault, your fault._

Chris was completely silent during breakfast and the ride to school. Hatred boiled in Andrew's stomach. Drake had ended up driving them because Cass slept in, which made everything worse. The crushing atmosphere made Andrew feel like he was drowning. Maybe he was.

Once they reached the school, Chris shoved himself out of the car without a sound and walked quickly towards the gym.

"Tell your friend it was nice to meet him," Drake called as Andrew followed Chris.

Andrew resisted throwing his backpack at the car and nodded. "Fucking monster," he muttered as he walked away, digging his nails into his palms.

He wasn't sure if he was referring to himself or Drake.

Henderson sat them both down and congratulated the two of them for their efforts over the past season, and tells them that he only called them here to let them know that it was likely that colleges would be starting to send out recruiters. Andrew didn’t think Chris was listening. He wasn’t either. When Henderson stopped talking, however, Chris thanked him with a forced smile. Henderson dismissed them, and Aaron slipped out of the gym while Chris disappeared into the bathroom. Andrew followed him after a moment of hesitation.

\---

Chris was losing the war against his emotions, his body, and the pain that was incessantly throbbing through his body. He slipped inside of the first stall his eyes manage to hold onto and locked the door. He set the lid down and held his head in his shaking hands. he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of anything but the night before, but the whispers and the pain find a way to worm into his unsteady state of mind.

\---

_I've gotta find a way to make this feel okay_

_  
When rock bottom for me is routine for someone else_

_\---_

He understood why Andrew wasn't able to keep it from happening, but it didn’t mean that it hadn’t hurt like hell. He couldn’t stop the tears that fell from his eyes, can't stop thinking, and somewhere along the way, he stopped being able to breathe.

He didn’t even register that Andrew had followed him into the locker room until he taps on the stall door.

"Chris. Let me in," Andrew said evenly.

"Y…you can't..." Chris whispered back between short gasps. Everything was growing increasingly hazier as the lack of oxygen started to affect him. His chest felt like it was going to burst.

"Open the damn door Chris," desperation seeped into Andrew's voice, and something about that reached Chris through the haze that had become his mind. He didn’t trust people. Didn’t, but despite Mary’s attempts to teach him that trusting people other than herself would lead to him getting hurt, he trusted Andrew. He trusted him, so he opened the door for him.

Andrew shut the door behind him and held his hands up, silently asking for Chris's hands. Chris sets them in Andrew’s and tried to focus on the fact that Andrew was letting Chris touch him.

"Stop being an idiot and breathe with me," Andrew said softly, and Chris did, eventually.

"How bad is it?" Andrew asked when Chris seemed to be breathing somewhat normally again.

Chris had been contemplating showing Andrew his scars for a few weeks now. This happening made it easier because he doubted that Andrew would shy away from marks like the ones that adorned Chris’s skin.

So in response to his question, he slowly pulled his shirt off, avoiding Andrew's gaze as he did so.

Andrew's eyes caught on the marks left by Drake on Chris's neck and stomach, growing darker as they did so, but they held longer on the scars running across his torso and shoulders. Chris bit his lip as Andrew continued silently looking. He didn’t know how Andrew will respond. Andrew swallowed, and slowly brings his hand to Chris's face, pausing in question before he touched Chris's face. Chris nodded and Andrew gently turned Chris’s face towards his own.

"This is not your fault. Don't you dare think that for a minute. That man,” his voice wavered for a moment before he pressed on, “is a monster. I'm sorry you got caught up in this. I shouldn’t have let you stay."

Chris shook his head.

"I understand, drew. Please don't apologize," Chris paused, "can I...uh...hug you?" Andrew looked at Chris for a long time, and Chris was ready to retract his question before Andrew answered.

"Are you comfortable with that, yes or no," he responded.

"Are you?" Chris said back.

"Yes. Answer my question,” Andrew seemed slightly exasperated, but there was a small smile on his lips.

"Yes."

Andrew gently pulled Chris towards him, and at that moment, Chris felt like everything could be okay. One more nightmare in his life was something he could deal with. This time was different because there was someone he could depend on that understood his pain. He tightened his grip on Andrew’s shirt and allowed himself to relax.

\---

_I know there's good in everything_

_  
And it'll show itself when you're gentle to it_

\---

The year continued with off-season practiced, chemistry, and their game of truths. Less and less of Chris’s life became a secret, and he began wondering if this was a place that he would be able to stay a place where he would be able to grow up.

He told Andrew his middle name three weeks after the incident with Drake.

"Abram," he said. They were both on the roof of the school, their legs hanging over the edge.

"Abram," Andrew repeated and looks over at Chris. "What are you running from?" he asked, and Chris felt his face shut off.

"It's not your turn," he said quietly.

They both were quiet for a long time, watching the clouds move over the two of them.

"Where would you want to go on a road trip?" Chris asked finally.

"Colorado," Andrew answered immediately, and Chris smiled to himself.

"Me too," he replies, "we should go together." The words are out of his mouth before they register.

Andrew turned towards him. "Abram. Can I kiss you, yes or no?"

The question caught him off guard, and the memory of his mother beating him after the shared kiss with the long gone girl, teaching him the dangers of touch, and the dangers of love. Andrew was different though. Andrew was... _Andrew_.

"Yes." He said softly, and Andrew closed the distance between the two of them.

Chris wanted to reach for Andrew's face, but he kept his hands clenched in his lap. Andrew pressed their foreheads together and they stayed like that for a while before kissing Chris again. "We're going to miss chemistry," Chris said in-between kisses, but he was smiling. 

"Fuck chemistry," Andrew replied before kissing him again.

Chris had never been happier to hear those words, never been happier to sit here on a roof with someone he knew would never hurt him, and would stop whenever Chris asked.

Seconds could have been years as they held onto each other. 

\---

Two months away from summer break, Henderson called them to his office one day after practice, and Riko Moriyama himself, accompanied by Tetsuji and Kevin Day, was in the office. Chris froze but attempted to play it off as something of excitement.

Andrew just looked bored.

"Andrew, Chris, this is coach Tetsuji from Edgar Allan. I'm sure you know who these two are."

Chris's heart was caught in his throat as he looked at the two of them, and shakes their hands numbly. Andrew was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, probably, definitely able to sense Chris’s panic.

"Nice to meet you," Chris said, waiting for Kevin and Riko to recognize him.

"The pleasure is ours," Riko replied smoothly, an arrogant smile on his face. Kevin remained quiet. "As you can probably see, coach Moriyama has taken interest in the two of you, and wants you on his team once you graduate," their coach said proudly.

Chris was panicking underneath a surprised smile. He needed to get out of here.

"Is that right," Andrew said coldly, "I'm going to have to turn you down."

Riko's smile twitched.

"Yeah me too," Chris said quietly, avoiding the gazes of everyone in the room. Riko looked furious. Tetsuji gave him a look that said hold back though and turned to Andrew and Chris.

"I will give you time to reconsider. I trust that you will both make the right decision."

And then they left, with one last look of fury from Riko. Henderson looks shocked and irritated.

"You two are more hopeless than I thought."

Andrew didn’t ask about Chris’s panic as the two of them retreated to the rooftop, and Chris lost himself in the gentle kisses that Andrew pressed to his lips. The ghosts of his past were louder than ever, but he drowned them out with the thoughts of summer, and the feeling of Andrew holding onto his hand.

Chris almost expects something to go wrong that night, but he arrives home, wakes up, and returns to the school the following day without incident. He was hesitantly hopeful he would be able to stay for the summer, maybe longer, and that Riko’s appearance meant nothing.

His hope was short lived as he walked home that afternoon, and a cloth was pressed against his nose as he stepped inside the house.

He was helpless as the drug flooded through his system.

\---

When Chris woke up, the familiar soreness in his neck that was left by the duffel bag wasn’t there. In addition to that, it wasn’t light that had woken him up, but the sound of metal clanging against another metal surface.

He couldn’t remember what had happened the night previous, which was unusual and sent him into an immediate panic.

He found that his body was refusing to cooperate when he attempted to get up, and a cold laugh echoed through the room as he did so. Drugs seemed like the most probable option. He strained his neck to look around and found himself looking at the cold face of Riko Moriyama. Kevin seemed to be lurking in the background as well.

“Nice to see you again, Chris,” Riko said smoothly, walking over to the surface that Chris was incapacitated on, a quick jerk of his head summoning Kevin to follow him. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be this much trouble and just say yes, but alas, you were.”

Riko crouched down next to him, tapping a knife against his own thigh as he watched Chris.

“You were so quick to say no that I couldn’t simply let you go.”

Chris cursed how obvious he had been in his rejection, and fought to keep the fear and panic out of his face as Riko smiled.

“So, we’re going to have a little talk. Interview questions that you failed to even get to when we took the time to come all the way to this shitty town.” A hint of anger had slipped into Riko’s voice, and because Chris knew what kind of person Riko was, dread swept through Chris’s body.

“Kevin,” Riko said quickly, jerking his head towards Chris, “hold him up.”

Kevin obeyed quickly, lifting Chris up by his armpits, and remaining silent as Riko moved closer to Chris. Chris cursed Kevin’s cowardice and braced himself for whatever Riko was going to do to him.

“First question and we don’t have much time so I’ll ask you to answer as quickly as possible,” Riko said quietly, tapping the blade of his knife against Chris’s chest, “You’ve only been playing at this school for half a year. There are no previous records of you pertaining to exy. Or anything, really. How do you explain that?”

Chris blanked immediately. How the hell was he supposed to answer that question without exposing his identity other than remaining silent? The drugs running through his system had not only hindered his physical ability, but his ability to think.

A sharp pain seared across his chest, and Chris gasped in pain and strained against Kevin’s arms, but it only seemed to make the pain worse.

“Quick answers, Chris,” Riko reminded him coldly, pulling the knife back and wiping it off uninterested.

“Just…a knack for the game,” he decided, and immediately felt Riko’s fist landing heavily on his eye before he caught hold of Chris’s collar, jerking his face towards his own.

“Liar,” he hissed, “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” Chris spat, “Why is it so surprising to you that someone could be good at this fucking game without killing yourself over it?”

Riko’s face went dangerously blank.

“Care to repeat that?” he said slowly, his hands loosening on Chris’s collar. Behind him, Kevin went very, very still. Usually, body language like that indicated danger, but Chris’s survival instincts weren’t exactly at their peak at the moment.

“I said, why you are upset that I’m good enough to be on your team without being born into it,” Chris replied coolly because as long as he was able to get Riko angry enough, there wouldn’t be any questions. Maybe it meant that he would have to suffer, but if Riko found out who he was, any amount of running wouldn’t save him from his past.

Chris knew his nose was broken as soon as Riko’s fist connected with it, the crunch sounding through the room letting him know it was more than just pain.

“You’re keeping something from me,” Riko said slowly, shaking his hand and examining his knuckles disinterestedly. His eyes were cold and dangerous, “I advise you to talk if you want to get out of here in a timely manner.”

Chris couldn’t help but laugh until Riko brought his fist against Chris’s cheek, and then his eye.

He let out a pained gasp and pulled against Kevin’s arms, but Kevin only tightened his grip. It was becoming dangerously familiar to what he had felt that night seemingly ages ago and was desperate to get out of the position.

“I’m not going to tell you shit,” Chris said shakily, and Riko’s eyes glistened. There was a smile on his face that spelled danger, and fear curled inside of Chris’s stomach.

“Bad choice, Wilson.”

\---

Chris woke up the next morning panicked and alone in the center of the abandoned house that Riko and Kevin had kept him in. His chest aches as he sits up, and he nearly passed out when he attempted to stand up. He breathes through the pain, cataloging his injuries, and making sure nothing seemed to be wounded in a fatal fashion.

All he could think was  _run_.

His duffel bag was in the corner of the house, nothing seemed out of place. He pulled on the only hoodie he had in the bag, covering the lines running down his arms, and limping out of the house. He could see the school as the sun rose, and made the split decision to stop there before leaving forever.

He owed Andrew that. He owed him so much more, and guilt was just as painful as the wounds covering his body. He couldn’t stay any longer though.

Once he was on the school grounds, he passed past the chemistry classroom, and went straight to the roof, settling on the edge and trying to keep his pulse at a steady rate.

It was only thirty minutes before Andrew settled beside him. Silently.

Chris took a deep breath and began to say goodbye to the life he had made for himself here.

"I have to leave," he whispered. Andrew looked at him sharply.

"What happened?"

"Can you help me get this off," Chris said, nearly inaudible.

Andrew nodded, and gently pulled the sleeves off of Chris. Chris's face was bruised, his nose obviously broken, his left eye completely black, and his cheek not much better. His arms were lined with several cuts that crossed his forearms.

"My legs are pretty bruised too, but I don't think you'd want to see that," Chris laughed weakly, "he went to town on my chest though."

"You don't have to run from him," Andrew said frostily, but Chris shook his head, and looking up at the sky as tears filled his eyes.

"You don't understand. My family...he knows who I really am. He'll kill me," he managed. Andrew already seemed to be shutting his face off, and Chris could feel his heart breaking, “Besides, the school called the fake address I gave them, and it won’t be long before they call me into the office about that. I can’t just stay here and wait for that to happen.”

"So you're leaving," he said blankly.

"Andrew, I"

"Stop. Just...just stop. Yes or no." He moved closer to Chris.

"Andrew,” his voice was pleading, and Andrew’s face darkened at the please that had died on Chris’s lips. 

"Yes or no,” the words they had used so much hurt Chris, but he knew he didn’t have a right to be in pain. He shouldn’t have ever let himself grow to care about someone the way he cared about Andrew.

Chris was crying. They both were.

"Yes."

The two of them fell together, both of them uncharacteristically feverish in their actions, yet still mindful of each other’s boundaries. Andrew was holding onto Chris’s face so tightly that Chris could feel his nails biting into his cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Out of all the identities that he had discarded over the years, Christopher Wilson was going to be the hardest one to let go.

Chris pulled back, taking something from his duffle bag and squeezing it in his hands before looking back at Andrew.

"I...wanted to give you something. It's selfish of me, but yeah," He handed Andrew a paper bag, and Andrew pulled a bundle of black fabric from it. "Armbands," Chris supplied quietly, "you never told me why you covered your arms, but I figured these weren’t as hot as long sleeves."

"You never asked," Andrew responded, and pulls up his sleeves, revealing rows of scar tissue.

"Andrew," Chris whispered, wishing he could say something, but something in Andrew’s face told him that he had lost that right.

"Thanks," Andrew said curtly, pulling the fabric over his arms. "You should go," he stated, refusing to look at Chris.

Chris swallows and nodded.

"I hope...I can see you again." Andrew said nothing. His face twitched, and Chris’s heart clenched. "Okay. Bye."

When Andrew looked up again, Chris was gone.

"Pipedream," He whispered.

\---

_Where did my friends go? Did they get taken_

_  
Or had they had enough of going to therapy?_

_\---_

When Andrew left the roof, he didn’t stop walking until he was back at Cass’s house. All he could hear was the pain in Chris’s voice echoing around in his head as he settled in his room, taking a shaky breath in an attempt to settle himself. Chris had become someone that he had begun to really trust. He knew everything about him, or at least, the things that he had given him, and the thing that set him apart from the others is that he didn’t push for more. He accepted what Andrew was and wasn’t willing to give, and didn’t freak out about the stuff that he was willing to impart.

Andrew shouldn’t have been surprised that he wasn’t going to stick around, but here he was, shaking and fighting back tears on his bed. This was why he didn’t do relationships. It was why there was never a “this” between him and Chris. But despite not having a word to label his feelings, he felt them all the same drop in his stomach he had felt years ago.

A knock on the door only furthered the sense of hopelessness that was seeping through Andrew’s veins, spreading a sense of heaviness through his body. He didn't want to deal with this now. Not that he ever did, but he had reached a point where he didn’t care about what happened to him where Drake was concerned, but that was before Chris was in the picture. Chris had unlocked the feelings that Andrew hadn’t felt in years, and all of them were coming back to him.

“You know what Cass said about locking doors, AJ,” Drake’s voice did nothing to settle the anger and sadness that was churning inside of him.

If he were, to be honest with himself, something he didn’t do too often, it made him even angrier at Chris. He knew he couldn’t blame him, and irrational anger was something he detested, but Chris had known how much Drake put Andrew threw. He knew that, and he left.

The doorknob rattled again, and Andrew found himself walking over to the door and yanking it open and only allowing Drake a slight moment of satisfaction before bringing his fist into Drake’s stomach. He wasn’t prepared for that, but he was in the military after all and didn’t take long to recover, retaliating by wrapping his hands around Andrew’s neck, shoving him back inside the room and shutting the door with his foot.

“This is new,” Drake hissed, his fingers tightening as Andrew struggled, “something happened, little Andrew?” the sick smile on Drake’s face only heightened the fury Andrew was feeling, and he brought his fist up and into Drake’s nose.

“Little _shit_ ,” Drake spat, his hand slipping away from Andrew’s neck. Andrew immediately moved forward, bringing Drake down onto the bedroom floor and slamming his fists into Drake’s chest, face, and neck, time and time again.

Watching pain cross over Drake’s face was something that Andrew didn’t think he would ever see, none the less at his own hands. It was liberating.

Andrew should have known that it was going to be short-lived, just like Chris, just like Cass.

Just like Aaron.

Andrew’s rage had surprised Drake, but Drake was and always had been stronger than Andrew, and now Drake himself was angry.

Drake brought a hand to cover Andrew’s mouth before crushing his windpipe, silencing any sound that might have escaped his lips.

“I thought we were beyond this, Drew,” Drake said evenly as he pushed Andrew onto the bed, “You haven’t forgotten our deal, have you? I can leave if you want.”

And that was when Andrew was reminded of his reality. Chris and exy were a pipe dream, nothing would have ever come of it. Protecting Aaron from Drake was what Andrew was meant to do, what he would always do. The moment that he said yes to Cass, he had given himself over to trust, which was anything but a friend to Andrew.

“No,” he said through gritted teeth, and swore off any feelings he’d had, and let Chris and his pile of lies fade to black.

“Just no? come on Andrew, you can do better,” Drake murmured, pulling back as he looked down at Andrew.

“ _Please_.”

Drake smiled, and a wave of self-hatred rolled over Andrew as he realized what he had almost done to Aaron. What he had almost reversed because of his own unimportant feelings. It was at this moment that he swore off any sort of relationship, any sort of thing that might take away from his task as the protector, because as long as Aaron was safe, Andrew was somewhat comfortable within his own skin.

\---

Chris became a dead name a week after he left California. He discarded all of the memories and clothes he had worn while he was in Parkland, but couldn’t bring himself to leave the hoodie behind that he had been wearing when he told Andrew goodbye. The memories weren’t as easy to lock away. He would have to make new ones to overshadow the old ones and work to forget the only person who had shown him what love and trust meant.

He changed his name four times over the course of two years, discarding the blond hair in exchange for Brown, then black when he settled in Millport as Neil Josten.

Another high school, another high school team.

He chose to try out for striker this time, to avoid being noticed, and to avoid encountering the memories he had shared on the field with Andrew.

He liked to think he had forgotten everything that had happened in California by the time he settled in Millport, but his dreams betrayed him, and the locker room that he woke up to was too reminiscent of the one they spent time together in.

He doubted he would ever fully forget California.

\---

**(TW SUICIDE ATTEMPT)**

The months that followed Chris’s departure were some of the hardest that he had experienced. The last time he had experienced this pain was when Drake entered the picture, but this sort seemed to be more dangerous.

Sometimes he found himself on the roof of the school late at night, trying to make himself believe that Chris was still beside him, even if he was long gone. Other times he would sit and imagine a timeline where the mysterious character had never appeared in the first place.

He knew he was regressing into old habits, and it wouldn’t be long until he fell apart again.

He began finding cruel comfort in the sting of razors against his skin as he attempted to keep his anger contained.

Drake didn’t make things much easier.

He was gone for most of the summer, but when he came back, he brought the news that he was going to be home until mid-spring. Andrew lost himself in a dark haze as the months crawled on until he reached the end of his rope. 

He took the sleep medication down from the medicine cabinet, and settled on the floor, holding the bottle in his hands. he hadn’t thought about Chris in months. He hadn’t let himself. Now he did though and remembered the hug they had shared in the bathroom of the locker room what seemed like ages ago.

He let himself think about all the times they had shared together, and how Chris had brought him up when he had hit rock bottom. Chris wasn’t here now though, no one left to save him.

On second thought, he slipped the razors down from behind the cabinet.

When it was done, he let his head fall back against the tiled wall. There was something about the numbness that was slowly spreading through his body that reminded him of when he had kissed Chris. His last thought before it faded to black was of Chris, and if he had left because of the reasons he gave Andrew, or if he had left _because_ of Andrew.

\---

Andrew woke up in the hospital with his arms bandaged. Aaron and Cass were sitting in chairs next to the bed, while Drake was leaning against the far wall. Andrew had never been angrier at himself as Cass burst into tears, taking Andrew's hand and looking into his eyes.

"Why, Andrew? You told me you were fine," she pleaded. Andrew shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," he lied, avoiding Cass’s wet eyes.

Aaron scoffed, standing up abruptly.

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it. You can't just say that after...this," he spat. Andrew noted how red his eyes were.

"The doctors said that with your history, it might be best for you to spend time at a rehabilitation center," Cass said quietly, not meeting Andrew's eyes.

"What?" Andrew's voice cracked, and his eyes flicked to Aaron, and then Drake, "n-no, I..I can...I'll be fine pl...please don't make me go." Andrew's voice shook as those words slipped past his lips.

He avoided Drake's gaze, keeping it locked onto Cass's.

"I don't know Andrew. We can try taking you to more therapy appointments, but...if that doesn't help I think that's the best thing for us to do,” Cass whispered, looking hopeless as her eyes caught on the white bandages on Andrew’s arms.

Andrew nodded, grabbing onto anything that could keep him here, protecting Aaron. That's all that mattered. Cass pressed a kiss to his forehead and shoed the remaining people in the room out of the door. Andrew let himself to fall back into a fitful form of sleep.

\---

When he woke up again, he could hear somewhat irritated voices in the hallway.

“He hasn’t even been here for three days. He’s nowhere near recovered enough to be able to talk to you. I’m sorry, you’re going to have to come back later,” Cass sounded stressed and tired.

“I understand Mrs. Spear. I have no intention of asking him to sign anything official today. I came down here to recruit him and his brother, but neither of them was at the school. The coach told me what happened to Andrew,” the other voice was calm and tired. What a pair the two of them made, Andrew thought hazily.

 _Recruit him and one of his teammates_.

Andrew hated that his mind immediately jumped to the blur that had been Chris, but immediately replaced it with Eli, the guy who had joined the team in his place and who had recently gotten suspended for drug use.

Big surprise.

“He had no right,” Cass said faintly, and Andrew’s stomach turned.

“I’m sorry to be a bother, but I would rather not have flown all the way out here to go back empty-handed. I can wait for a while, but not long.”

The talking got unintelligible for a bit.

Andrew made the decision right then, even if he still would need to check it with Aaron. He wasn’t sure if Aaron would agree to it, but he needed something to lose himself if he wanted to survive.

“Cass,” he called, not expecting his voice to sound so raspy. He cleared his throat. “Cass.” He said clearer this time.

“And now you woke him up,” she sighed, opening the door and looking in at Andrew. There were dark circles under her eyes he hadn’t noticed before, “are you okay, Andrew?”

“He can come in,” he ignored her question in favor of his request. Her eyebrows came together, obviously not wanting to let the man in, but sighed and opened the door wider, letting the coach of the Palmetto State Foxes in through the door.

The last time someone had looked to recruit him, it hadn’t ended well. Not that it started well either. Intimidation was never something he was a fan of.

This man just seemed tired and in need of a drink. Andrew could relate.

“I’m Coach Wymack of the Palmetto state foxes,” the man began, but Andrew didn’t let him finish. Not that he needed to.

“I’ll sign.”

\---

The deal with Drake didn’t change over the years, and the summer after the twin’s freshman year at Palmetto, he was back under Cass’s roof. He found ways to keep himself busy, and worked to block out the nightmares he was subjected to at night.

A month into the summer, Aaron had forced Andrew to go to the local club with him to meet a girl. Andrew had begrudgingly agreed as an excuse to get out of the house. In the end, it would have been best if both of them had remained home.

Andrew had stayed at the bar, watching Aaron and his date interact and making sure nothing went wrong. Aaron came off the dance floor at some point and grinned wildly at Andrew. Something inside of him tugged at the look on Aaron’s face, mostly because of how Aaron rarely smiled at him anymore, let alone looked at him.

“You should go out there too,” Aaron said, his words slightly slurred.

Andrew shook his head.

“You seem to be enjoying it enough for the both of us,” He replied, and Aaron rolled his eyes before knocking his shot back and returning to the dance floor.

Andrew wondered if things had gone differently and Drake had never been in the picture, Aaron and him could have been friends. Maybe the two of them wouldn't need to go to Palmetto because they wouldn't have been broken. Andrew stopped the train of thought before it continued much longer because dreaming wouldn't get him anywhere. He knocked back the one shot he had purchased and resigned to keeping his eyes on Aaron. 

One moment, everything was relatively fine. The next, Aaron had been pulled out of the club through a side door. Andrew was out of his chair in a moment, his hands moving to the knives he had slipped into the armbands before leaving the house. He tried telling himself that it was nothing and that he was merely overreacting, but he knew his instincts weren't wrong very often. 

The scene unfolding was one that sent rage rushing through Andrew's vision. 

A much taller man and his friend had caged Aaron against the wall and the taller out of the two was letting his hands drift down Aaron's chest. One moment, Andrew was watching it happen, and the next both of the men were on the ground groaning in pain as Andrew brought his fist down into their flesh again, again,  _again_.

Someone was pulling him back. Someone was crying. There were sirens and panicked voices. Someone was touching him, and if there weren't cuffs keeping his wrists confined, he would have killed whoever dared touch him.

The rest of the night was a blur. 

The following month was even more so. 

Cass had money, which meant she had lawyers. Aaron told his part of the story, or what he remembered. 

It was ruled as self-defense, but it came with a twist in the form of medication.

It didn't make any difference to Andrew. 

He returned to Palmetto with a manic grin and even less interest in the world around him.

\---

_I'm gonna take care of things_

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking your time to read this. The second half should be up within the day.


End file.
